


The Housekeeper and the Orange Mock

by todorokiisasadbean



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot, Plant monster, fairy tale, talking flowers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:20:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todorokiisasadbean/pseuds/todorokiisasadbean
Summary: Prompt: As the new housekeeper for a prominent, wealthy family, Felidity is watering the lilies in the entry way when one of the plants starts talking to warn you of a dark family secret.OrA houskeeper accidently falls into the trap of the flower of deceit.





	The Housekeeper and the Orange Mock

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my first one shots ever. Comments are appreciated, please be nice.

In the Azalea Mansion, the convivial atmosphere was abuzz with anticipation. Pink azaleas, lilies, and moonflowers adorned the garden gate like kittens affectionately clinging to their mother. The smell of orange, cinnamon, and vanilla wafted through the house like a zephyr, caressing the housekeeper’s nose with its delectable scent.

A young housekeeper gently sprinkled water onto the flowers of the garden gate, humming to herself softly. Her brunette curls fell atop the crowns of the lilies, her winsome figure dancing to an invisible tune. Her signature butterfly necklace swayed with her moves.The housekeeper stopped watering, blue watercan in hand, entranced by the lilies that seemed to speak and sway with her. 

Suddenly, a chorus of harmonic voices chimed in her ear, and she withdrew in surprise. “Who’s there?” she asked, hands clamped on her watering can. A rich, silky voice spoke from amidst the lilies. “It is I, the orange mock. I wish to warn you.” The housekeeper hesitated, and slowly reached towards the lilies. Pushing some of the pink and orange flowers aside, she revealed a small collection of white flowers with a small fruit inside. 

The orange mock spoke again. “Hello, Fidelity. How do you do?” The housekeeper balked, her mind running to catch up with the idea that the flowers had spoken to her. “I-I’m doing well, Orange Mock,” she replied, feeling quite flustered. “How do you know my name?” “We all know you,” said the orange mock, its deep baritone entrancing the housekeeper, tantalizing and seductive. “We flowers hear all, from little lies to dark family secrets.” The housekeeper came closer, intrigued. “The family residing in this mansion has a terrible secret, one that you should know. The young master, a sophisticated fellow at the ripe age of 23, keeps a vial trapping all the souls of each flower in this house.” She reeled back in surprise, hands twitching in curiosity by her sides. The orange mock continued, “All the lilies, azaleas, and moonflowers you see here are souls bound by the vial. Fidelity, you must cajole the young master to let you in his room, and retrieve the vial so all our poor souls can be let free.” 

The lilies chorused their woes softly.

Fidelity pondered at the prospect. Is this a trick? But the naive girl believed the white flower heart and soul, grit her teeth in determination. “Dear Orange Mock, this matter is too horrible to be left alone. Whatever curse that may be upon you, tell me how I might lift it, and then all of you shall be free!” The orange mock laughed, sinister and cruel. “Dear Fidelity, of course! All you have to do is befriend the young master, and be let into his room. In his bedside drawer, there is a tiny, white vial. It is engraved with purple and green flowers. Bring that to me, and the mission is complete. Be warned, though,” the white flower’s voice turned hush, “In three weeks a malady will strike, and all the flowers will wilt and die. The flowers will regrow at the stroke of midnight, with our souls unable to sing and souls forever trapped. Go forth, dear child, and help us all!”

And so she did. Every morning, when watering the flowers, she and the orange mock conversed about how she was supposed to acquire the vial. Day by day, the housekeeper used her charm to bewitch the young master, the uncouth and impudent man slowly revealing his inner self to her, peeling away layers like an onion. 

It was midnight, and the house was silent. The silent ticking of the grandfather clock hid the hushed footsteps of Fidelity. After a night of languid motions and caresses by the master, she cautiously pulled the drawer, wincing at the small creak it made. Rummaging around, she fumbled through the various bedside items until she grasped the white vial. She looked back at the sleeping form, feeling slightly guilty for using his feelings. But she mustn’t waver. Slowly and carefully, she exited the room, and closed the young master’s door.

She heaved a sigh of relief, and giddily ran to the flower gate, smiling ear to ear. “Orange Mock, look! I have the vial!” The white flower groaned as the lilies began to softly harmonize. “Quiet down, Dear Fidelity, you will awake the residents.” The housekeeper hushed her voice. “Good child. Now, pour the vial onto the garden gate, and set us free!” The tone of the orange mock’s voice belied something a little more than just joy. The naive girl did as told, and in an instant smoky waves encircled the orange mock, enlarging and morphing, white flowers twisting into a viney, flowery monstrosity.

The housekeeper gaped at the plant monster, face going pale. Something was horribly wrong. The mass of vegetation smiled, and the orange mock’s baritone voice chuckled. “Dear Fidelity, you poor naive girl. That vial contained my powers, and now I am free. Didn’t anyone tell you? An orange mock means deceit.” And the flower mass lunged, and a silent scream was cut off, her signature butterfly necklace on the floor. The mass of flowers returned to their former shape, the orange mock amidst the lilies more salubrious than ever before.

When morning arose, the young master was alone. He got dressed, brushed his teeth, and went out to see his beloved housekeeper. His face went pallid, his hands went slack. Before the flower gate was a valley of blood, a single orange mock, and a signature butterfly necklace.


End file.
